Needle In The Hay
by Haligh
Summary: Future Fic. Johnny's parents have passed away. Two strangers show up in Tulsa claiming to be his brothers. All the while, Johnny struggles with feelings for Dallas and angst. Slash. I HATE THIS GODDAMN FIC NOW, but keeping it up for you.
1. Fond Farewell

**Title: **Nobody's Listening

**Rating: **T

**Plot Summary: **Johnny's parents pass away, and the cause of their death leads him to a nasty discovery about himself. (_To have multiple chapters: Future fic)_

**Warnings:** Yaoi in future chapters, as well as angst.

**Comments:**

Donnie Darko inspired. Johnny, in my mind, would eventually grow a little bit bitter growing up. Some of these thoughts will be very OOC compared to sixteen year old Johnny Cade, but I'm striving for something completely untouched in The Outsiders fanfiction catagory, so bear with me.

xxxx

_If the **sky** were to suddenly open up, there would be no law; there would be no rule.  
There would only be you and your memories._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**"I didn't see anything."**

The words repeated over and over in Johnny's head, and eventually came out emotionless as he watched the police officer. His tongue seemed to become numb in his mouth when he tried to say anything more - He had not yet fully comprehended everything going on in his spinning, troubled head. The man made a 'humph' sound, turned on the heel of his black shoes. The news had just hit him suddenly, like a ton of bricks, and now Johnny wasn't sure how to feel or what to say. It would seem he should be sad, yes, scared, maybe… But all he felt was relief washing over him. They were both pronounced dead when he got there, tired eyed and confused. He watched them zip up the trash bag and bitterly remarked to the officer that they belonged there, because they were garbage. They had never been anything better, but he hadn't expected himself to be brave enough, cruel enough, to get the words out.

As far as he knew, his mother had always been desperate and clingy and cold. When they still lived in Mexico when he was young, he would flip through his grandmothers' photo albums and catch sight of a rail-thin woman with stunningly dark eyes. In every picture, even if her lips were upturned in a grin, she looked sad. She had always been that way – Tragic from birth to death. His father had always swallowed too much of the poison, watched too much TV, and raised a hand in anger more often than he should have. This Johnny knew from experience. No photo album was required to tell him that his father had been angry all his life.  
Officer Abbey told him everything. She explained how the night had been quiet and dark, and nobody had been expecting trouble on Christmas Eve. She told him how most of the cops had retired to their homes, expecting the 'bad kids' to be drinking the night away in celebration of the coming new year and the birth of Christ. Half of them weren't even religious by their actions (Thou shalt not steal?) but nevertheless; it was time of year for joy, celebration, and love. Even those who did not believe in God knew that, and they toasted to the coming year and the things that waited for them in the beginning of the new life. A clean slate, a new year… It was something to behold.

Maybe it was a stupid perception. Greasers were Greasers no matter the day, even if it was the 24th of December. Smoke had billowed from the Cade household from the spreading fire that Abbey had suspiciously concluded, "Might have been from a bad mix of alcohol and cigarettes". It wasn't until after they discovered the can of diesel fuel, lying gently in the grass and the investigation shifted, the scent of gas mixing with the scent of rotting meat and burnt wood. The flames had engulfed the house wholly, and Johnny liked to think that it lit up like a thousand Christmas trees, hell fire dancing around it and slipping in through the open window cracks, passing through the walls, melting down the wood and plastic inside. All of the bottles of beer, glass or cans, had been melted down. All the cigarettes had been lit up and burn to crisps. Finally, there was the two wastes of life within the walls, crying out loud for someone to help them, then collapsing on the ground all black and dead from licking flames, bodies smoldering. He wondered if his mother, hair burning, lips chapped and black eyes suddenly empty, had a halo of fire ablaze behind her bloodied scalp, peeling back skin. It was a gruesome thought and he shuddered at it, shaking his head.

He was almost eighteen. He was only a few months shy of his next birthday. He could live on his own.

The problem was he felt himself growing more and more frustrated with each passing month. Since he was fifteen, his innocence had started to fade away. He was growing more and more bitter, even if he hated to admit it. Such thoughts of death would never have entered his mind at fifteen, and at sixteen he would have been appalled. However, now, at age seventeen, he felt something in him slowly changing. It was a little voice in his head that reminded him that the world was a real fucked up place. It reminded him of his parents, of the dirtied streets of downtown Tulsa. He saw suddenly the vacant lot in his minds-eye, more of a home than his fired up house had ever been.

The ambulance closed its back doors, and Johnny watched the blood red cross fade into the distance. He smirked, half bemused. Why were they taking them to the hospital? They were already dead. No heartbeat or anything. For once he was thankful for his fathers drinking, because the alcohol that dripped down his shirt had made all the difference in the world.

He had never wanted his father to die. As angry and hurt as he was by him, he had never cursed death on him. He had always believed he could fix whatever they had between them, but it was just after his seventeenth birthday he had given up. He spent as much time away from home as he could, deciding it was better that way, and he had made the crucial decision to let go of everything he had been trying to hold near and dear to his heart. Family? He didn't have a real one; the gang was all he had. They were all he would ever have.

Johnny reached up to run his fingers through his jet-black hair. Since his earlier years, it had grown in length, falling nicely to the middle of his back. He liked it that way. The bangs had grown out, too, and he brushed them aside profusely. He could never consider cutting them. They were a part of him, after all.

Finally, Officer Abbey approached him, this time with finality in her voice. "It was arson," She concluded. She placed her hand between his shoulder and neck, a startling white against the dark tan of his skin.

"We'll be sure to catch whoever did this, son." Her voice was soothing and sad, and he knew she wanted to help, but he shook his head. "No," He said quietly, and as her eyebrow rose he met her green gaze with his own, endlessly black pools of color staring suddenly back at her. "That's… okay. Really."

She seemed to understand he wasn't the kind of greaser lucky enough to have parents that were trying at the very least.

He looked away, she touched his face, he wriggled away from her icy touch, and then she backed off.

Now there was silence between them, unspoken questions hanging in the air. Johnny just turned to leave, and Officer Abbey wondered where the innocence went in his eyes. She thought about it without knowing how often Johnny wondered that to himself, and tried to map a timeline in his mind to find out when the bitter sickness finally took him. When did the innocence give way to indifference, the child-like charm too dark thoughts, the sadness to angst? When was it that he changed?

He was not sure he liked this new Johnny. He was to grown up, to adult, saturated in depression. When did I become so selfishly sick? He thought, shoving his hands into the pockets of his loose black jeans. His parents were dead, they had died in a horrible way, and he realized suddenly he had been smiling since he heard the news.

That must have been why Abbey, with confusion in her emerald eyes, had looked at him the way she had.

"Jack!" The nickname made him stop in his tracks, and he lifted his head. His view changed suddenly from gravel and mud to the face of a boy a little younger than he was, looking at him with concern. Every once and a while they would call him 'Jack', and he liked it better than the affectionate "Johnnycake". It sounded tuff, it sounded smooth, maybe even a bit dangerous. "I'm fine," He answered, and Ponyboy simply stared with a befuddled look reflecting in his grayish green eyes. They had the habit of darkening under suspicion, which Johnny was prepared to endure. "You're not," The other boy concluded. "Don't lie to me."

Like Johnny, Pony had grown his hair out – It fell now in waves of reddish-brown, flowing gracefully to a halt on his shoulder blades. Jack was two years his senior, and he looked it, too. Even though he had always grown up as the 'scrawniest' of the group, he was still taller than Ponyboy, and his height showed it. He had never been very tall growing up, but it seemed when he started really eating (which he only started to stop fueling Ponyboys worried accusations that he was getting too thin) he had grown a few inches at the least. It had paid off in feet over the years.

He looked better like that, tall and thin beneath baggy jeans and hoodies. That's what Pony always thought. It made him look more mysterious, more appealing to the young females of his age group. Of course, none of those females ever got dates. There was only one girl Johnny had ever been serious about, a Soc by the name of Kathy Gumwood. It hadn't worked out well.

It wasn't the social classes that caused friction in their relationship. No, Kathy wasn't like the rest of them. She was sweet and kind and not judgmental in the least. She had approached Johnny in a hallway full of Soc's when he feared tiptoeing near her, and kissed him squarely on the lips for everyone to see. She hadn't been afraid, and told him he shouldn't have to be, either.  
Pony never got the full story out of him. Johnny would have choke it out and then cry a little and dismiss it, or simply sink into a depressive state and tell him to leave it alone. Maybe a year or two ago, he would have pushed it, but Johnny had grown up and everyone knew it – And Ponyboy Curtis was very aware of it.

"I ain't lying to you," The older boy persisted, and his eyes begged for Pony to let the subject stay buried.

This was normally where the sixteen year old would give up, but as they kept walking, he just turned up his chin at Johnny. "We're all real worried about you," He stated, studying the other male for some kind of indicator of emotion or feeling. Johnny made sure his telltale eyes were covered with his hair, making it that much harder to read him. "Especially Dally. I know he doesn't act like it…"

"But he cares," Johnny finished quietly, not glancing up. Ponyboy nodded, and Johnny caught it in the corner of his eye. "Look, I know everyone's worried about me. I'm worried about me." There was a sudden hush between them, as if trembling the wrong word would cause him to drop the conversation. Pony felt the tension too, and just watched him for a moment, reaching over to hold his hand. He knew Johnny loved affection – It was just something he subtly gave away during their near five-or-more year friendship. Johnny made the move to interlace their fingers, but he didn't look up at him.

"You don't got to hide from me, Johnnycake. I ain't gonna make fun of you," He assured him, but Johnny only grinned.  
"I know." Johnny's eyes glittered like dark jewels beneath his bangs, the scarce lights causing the highlights to reflect the world in front of him. Pony could see himself clearly now that he was facing him. What perfect, glossy eyes.

"Do you?" He asked. He wasn't going to get out of the conversation just by agreeing and batting his eyelashes.  
"Yah. I do." The definite tone of his voice suggested to Pony that he meant what he said. He cared, he heard him, and he was grateful for his friends comforting words and the day ahead.

The conversation was brief but it meant the world to both of them. They continued to walk hand in hand in the early Sunday morning light. It was the day of the Lord and his parents had passed away.

It must have been true, then, what they said. If He was there at all, he worked in mysterious ways, putting Johnny through years and years of torment with no good outcome except the transformation to bitter street waste before taking away the miserable cause.

Johnny doubted often He was there. All of that was part of a sadistic test if He was, and if He wasn't… Where had he been all his life? Where had the Guardian Angels been when his father shoved him so many times against the snow black walls, shoved himself against him (but not without a few good bruises)?

Where was he all those times Johnny felt like dying?

God worked in mysterious ways.


	2. Everybody Cares

**Author's Notes:**

**In the tradition of my other chapter and stories, it has Bright Eyes references. I have become suddenly inspired. This will be finished.**

**Expect OC's in the future; I have conjured up a brother of Johnny's to join us, but he is not a Mary-Sue. I think you'll rather like him, he's kind of cool.**

**For the confused, this takes place after the book. I almost decided it wasn't, but, yah. That's what's going on. Dallas is alive, however, which will be explained and Johnny's walking is also discussed here.**

**This chapter was heavily inspired by Elliot Smith. In fact, the entire story is heavily inspired by Elliot Smith. His songs remind me of the Johnny I'm trying to write.**

**Hope you all enjoy my fic. Your comments and critiques really help me out, keep them coming if you could. They brighten my days. (:**

**This chapter is a little short because I just wanted to update. (;**

**----**

The motel mirror was dark, like black glass. Johnny was staring ahead, meeting his eyes. "Look at you," He said, sounding miserable. "You're a wreck. A fool." The words hung in the air and then settled like dust. He felt them weight down on his heart, which suddenly felt as if it were sinking into his stomach. It was a Monday morning, a little after six o'clock. He had not rested that night. Strands of hair fell messily infront of his black eyes, but he had not the strength to brush them away. He noted with disgust that his eyes were red and wet. He looked like he had been crying all night, and that had, for once, not been the case. He sniffed, trying to clear the scent of the drugs. He tried to recall how he got there, why he didn't stay with the Curtis', what exactly had been happening the past couple of days. Lately, every event seemed to blur into another. Life was always easier when it was just a blur, with no details to confuse him, but that didn't make anything alright. It felt like he was slipping a little bit more every day, losing himself to sleep, cocaine, and thought.

--

_"Why don't you just stay with us?" Ponyboy asked, not understanding. They sat side by side on a hill in the park, staring out into the distance. The sun was just beginning to sink beneath the hills, spilling darkness over the sky. It was a sight that Johnny never ceased to be amazed by. No matter how ugly things turned out in life, the sun would prove the end of every problem. The way it fell beneath the skyline, blotted out by the tops of hills and house...The end of daylight took with it another day and it's problems. When it rose again, things would be new, a blank sheet of paper. He would write the same story over and over again..._

_"I need to think," The older of the two boys stated. He turned to face his friend now, looking concerned. "You know what I mean? I just ..." Pony leaned a little closer, their noses nearly touching. If he was on the verge of spilling one of those secrets that Ponyboy knew he was hiding...  
Johnny felt suddenly vulnerable, there was such honesty in his friends eyes when he himself was so guarded. He swallowed, moving away from the other. He turned his head towards the sky again. The clouds were just begining to turn into stars. "...I just need to get my head straight." _

_--_

Get his head straight? My blowing coke up his nose? The irony of the situation made him smile. It was a crooked sort of grin, the kind that reminded him of Dallas when he felt just. His eyes half-shut, and he turned to the shower. Kneeling, he fiddled with the knobs(in this place, which he knew like the back of his hand, you always had to jimmy them first) The lights were all off, still, and the ugly green curtains pulled back. He could see the parking lot, lit blue and gold as dim sunlight began to pour over it. The streetlights were still on, although their impact on the ground was minimal. It was moments like this, when the world was still dark and blue from the night in the morning, that Johnny felt were the most precious. Business men were already up, Farmers had been for hours, but it still felt like he was alone and everyone else remained tucked in their beds. It was all ridculously peaceful. He never thought of things this way before Ponyboy had showed him that sunset by the church. God, he was lucky to get out of that one with his legs intact. The doctor had said remorsefully that he would never walk again should he survive. Drugged up and feeling tired, he had only smiled in response. It had taken a year and a half of physical therapy and medication to get him where he was now. A year and a half of his life had been eaten up by that fire...He found it amusing that fire had tried to take him and failed, but succeeded in taking his parents. He reached for the bottom of his shirt, lifting it above his head before tossing it aside. He stepped out of his pants and thus completed undressing. A steady stream of hot water poured over him like heavy rain as he stepped into the bathtub. At least he could feel clean amongst the dirt and shame of the motel and the guilty feelings he was trying to ignore. No, guilt was a concept he was no longer subscribing to...

A dizzy spell suddenly came over him. He thought for a moment he was going to fall, but he maintained his balance. Deciding he would be best not to be alone, he hurried to finish washing. He wrapped a gray towel around his waist after listening to the way the knobs screamed as he turned them off. He tucked the towel into itself and stepped out onto the tiled floor of the bathroom, making small puddles that followed him into the carpeted bedroom.

In the next room he drew the curtains down, hiding the view. The world, now fully golden and bright in the sunny glare of morning, was gone from his room.  
He wasted no time in quickly drying and redressing; He had no other change of clothes. They had all been _burnt, _unfortunately. In the rush to simply be ready, to be okay, he had never considered the reality of his situation. He considered it now as he buttoned his jeans. No more beatings. No more abuse. His father would never /touch/ him again, never...

Never again.

But his _mother. _She came to his mind as he slid on his sneakers, old and worn. She had not been like him. In the nights he didn't come home and she was sober, she would cry to him. Sometimes, with her mascara running down her face(even when she had no reason to put on make-up), she would wrap her arms around him and apologize through broken sobs. When he turned six years old, she had even tried to make him a birthday cake. That was when it started to get really bad, when Blanc had moved out, stolen the car, drove towards Nebraska... Surely the news had reached him. He'd be coming back, if Johnny remembered anything about his older sibling. He never even thought of sending them money...

Now he was on his way out the door. He ran his fingers through his hair, the snarls yeilding to his desire and uncurling themselves. He had his mothers hair, so dark and wavy and thin. In the right light, he could be mistaken for her, only he lacked the paleness of her skin, her sickening lack of weight. For some reason, he missed her, he missed that. He missed the nights she would hold him and apologize, tell him it was all the drink, tell him his father was not who they thought he was. Really deep down he loved her, he loved Johnny, they were just in a bad time was all. A bump in the road. Really. Johnny knew better than to believe her, but sometimes it felt good to hear the words anyways. Part of him had always hoped.

His jean jacket was getting a little tight now. He'd need to be buying himself a new one, soon; It's funny how it took so long for him to grow out it. He was thankful it had lasted so long. A genuine and small smile passed over his lips. It was tragic, everything going on in his life, but somehow, it was okay. Why was it okay? He wasn't sure he could say, but ... everything was fine and would be fine. This was the way it was supposed to be. He could and would get better, one day, but right now this misery was what was meant for him. He had been put through a lot, and with his father gone he could finally start healing from all of it. He fumbled in his jean pockets for a cigarette packet, and lifted the stick to his lips. The blue lighter in his opposite pocket was lifted up to light it, and he inhaled deeply. The smoked screamed against and blackened his lungs as he made his way towards the Curtis household. It was early, but everyone would be awake - or, at the least, Darry would be. He had to go to work at 7:30. The family's schedule was something that Johnny had growned used to and liked; It was the one thing that stayed constant in his life, the promise of when his friends would be coming and going from the only truly functional household Johnny had been invited into in his lifetime. He considered knocking, but he could remember suddenly a beautiful woman. She was a giant compared to him, with the skin of an angel and hair the exact color of gold. Her blue eyes lit up at the sight of him, and he felt welcomed. "_There ain't no need to knock, Johnnycake. You're family, now." _And she had smiled...

Mrs. Curtis had died so young. Johnny hadn't understood it then, it had all felt like a bad dream. He was older, now. He understood death. It tugged at his heartstrings all the more now that he could comprehend the accident. No, she had not deserved it...But he was used to such unfair dealings of fate, considering the fact he was a Greaser.  
He turned the knob slowly, peeking over the door. "Good morning?" He said quietly, taking note of the fact none of the lights were on. He listened closely now and heard the Television flickering, the sound crackling as it left the speaker. Someone was awake. He leaned against the door now, closing it, and now caught sight of Darry on the couch. He was still in his pajamas, which pretty much meant underwear and a tanktop(like most men, Johnny presumed, although he himself felt most comfortable sleeping in sweatpants). "Good morning!" He repeated, now waving to the older boy. No, _man. _Darry had grown up so fast - He was such a responsible person, Johnny always admired him. He would never be like that. He would never be so...selfless. It was unfortunate, but he knew himself too well.

Darry was sitting at the living room table, on the floor. He had been watching the news when Johnny had decided to pop in. "Morning," He responded. He seemed glad to be torn away from the sight of the television screen, but his smile quickly turned to a frown. "Hey, are you alright? Pony told me what happened."

Of course he did, Johnny thought, because he worries to much.

It never occured to Johnny that his friend had all the reasons in the world to be worried about him. He had been getting thinner lately, a little paler. He didn't like to talk about anything because he didn't like to burden anyone. He must have come off as secretive and nervous and sad for a long time, but it was only recently it seemed to get really bad. He didn't eat much at _all, _and he spent most of his time away from the gang. The lack of seeing him probably fueled rumors. "I'm okay," He answered truthfully, rolling his shoulders in a shrug as he strolled over to the brick red couch. He sank into one of the fabric, sighing. Darry eyed him suspiciously. Nope, he didn't buy it - And why should he have? He was the smartest guy that Johnny knew, surely he could see through him. Johnny half hoped he would.  
"You're parents are dead," Darry said flatly, so honestly and fact-like that it made Johnny wince. "And look at you. Were you drinking or crying? You're eyes..."

But Johnny was to stubborn for that. He wanted so badly to _talk _about _everything, _to finally spill all the things bothering him and swimming around in his brain. The problem was there was no place to start, for the list of doubts and fears were endless.

"It's okay, it's all right, nothing's wrong," Johnny cut him off, speaking quickly. It was painfully obvious he wanted to get off of the subject. His stomach quivered as it supressed butterflies, summoned by his nerves. Darry seemed to get the message. He wouldn't open up to him, but maybe to Pony. "It's Christmas vacation," He stated, looking over at Johnny. He had been going to school lately - He had even gotten the hang of basic reading. "No school," Darry added, studying the other for a reaction. Instead, Johnny stared at the TV, expressionless as he explored his thoughts. "Yes," He agreed.

There would be no more discussion, only tired silence, until Soda and Ponyboy woke up.


	3. Bad Blood

**Authors notes:**

**Hey you guys! I promised an update, didn't I? I've been learning to appreciate my fanfiction a lot more so I'm not going to be like "emo -.- this sux ass." Haha. Bright Eyes inspired. The song lyrics are Bad Blood. Good tune, good tune. There's a happy ending to this chapter and some RELIGION! I think Johnny would be a sexy Christian, don't you? Religion always makes for good angst, especially in slashy stories. This was a pain in the ass to finish and it's still not that long. My chapters like to be short but not TO short, I guess. Keep those comments coming, guys, they feed my motivation like small children to cannibals.**

**PS. The end kind of came out of nowhere, which is why it's so short. I could do more with it, but it's late and I'm tired and have school tomorrow! **

_No news, that's good news, _

_Someone's gonna break. _

_See things change, yeah I've been changing everything. _

_It's peaceful, the pitch black, when the last light on goes out._

_I'm stranded in my bed, so I think about, _

_The bad luck, the bad blood, _

_That may have come between, two good souls._

Eight o'clock everyone had greeted the day.  
It seemed early to Johnny but maybe that was because the past few weeks he'd been sleeping in 'till noon. Regardless, they had eggs for breakfast, which Johnny had volunteered to cook(it was one of the few things he could make without burning anything). The morning conversation consisted of discussions about the weather and how great it was to be out of school for vacation. Johnny smiled and tried to join in. He wasn't feeling all that talkative but talked anyway because he knew that his dark mood needed lifting, and what better way to lift a mood than a conversation with your family?

Yes, family. They were more family to him than his father and mother ever had been, ever. Even his brother, who had dissapeared into Nebraska, meant nothing near as much as Ponyboy, Soda, and Darry did to him. He couldn't help but feel something was wrong with that statement, but it was all too true. They were everything to him. As long as he had them, he didn't need anyone else.

Johnny was beginning to think the Cade family blood was bad, anyway. His mother had been a screeching waste of flesh, his father an angry and useless blob, his brother a selfish hypocrite, and he himself was, to put it simply, a cocaine-snorting hallucinating masochistic rail-thin emotional _mess. _His faults listed themselves in his mind and he considered each one; His introverted personality, his skin-and-bones figure, his eyes as black as the night sky...Pony sat across from him, watching the dark circles beneath his eyes. They seemed to be growing lately, and Johnny seemed to be getting paler. His once healthy brown glow had been fading and losing it's...well, _it. _Had he lost weight, too? He never saw Johnny eat more than a few bites of anything, but the boy always insisted he was perfectly fine and if Ponyboy didn't stop accusing him of being bullimic he'd have to kick him in the grapefruit.  
"What about your parents?" He asked suddenly. Hey, it _had _to be on everyones minds. What was wrong with speaking up about it? Soda was watching them both curiously now, also having the desire to get to the bottom of the Cade-Arson Mystery.  
Johnny looked up suddenly, the sleep gone from his black eyes. In a tone as emotionless as he could managed, he responded, "_Well, what about them?" _It was hard to say it so casually. He tried to act indifferent, but the thought of them brough so much back. He thought about his mother and father and the way they constantly fought. He thought about the dreams he had, when the acts would replay over and over again. He thought about his father, hands rough from work and beatings dancing down his back. He thought of the things he wished he had been able to say to them. He dreamed about what would have happened if Blanc had taken him with him when he had left...All these pictures clouded his mind and he tried to sort them out into words, but would he be saying to much?

There was a silence and he could feel three pairs of eyes staring at him. He blushed shyly, avoiding their eyes. He hated when people stared at him so expectantly. It made him feel vulnerable, naked before them, because he knew as well as anyone did that he had a hard time covering up a lie. He looked down at the remains of his mostly-eaten egg, stabbing it with the silver of his fork, over and over and over again. He gathered the courage after a moment to follow up in a low voice, "They're dead..."

"Any signs of who did it?" Soda asked, as curious as anyone else. He had planned to leave it to Johnny but if the subject was open he just wanted to know how things were progressing. Surely that detail wouldn't cause Johnny so much pain. "No," Johnny said, putting down his fork. He took the golden glass of orange juice into his hands, sighing as he looked down at it. "I'm not sure I'd want to know, really... I mean, the facts are that they're gone and knowing who set fire to the house won't change any of that." Compared to his usual silence, that had been a speech. He laughed weakly to himself, before adding, "I guess I should be thankin' them, anyways, huh?"  
Pony frowned. His hair had grown out nicely, Johnny noticed suddenly, looking up from his drink. Locks of reddish-brown hair fell to his midneck, a length he worked hard to preserve. Looking into his eyes, such a stormy blue, Johnny could see the ocean. He could even feel the sand beneath his feet, feel the sun warming his skin. What beautiful, beautiful eyes. He wished his weren't so big and black, emotionless and soulless in their lack of color. There was silence for a split second before Johnny lifted the orange juice glass to his lips, taking a long sip. Silence settled in, but after a moment it became comfortable. There was the simple enjoyment of each others company, no conversation to spoil it(much like the way footsteps spoiled the winter blanket laid out over the world). To Johnny's suprise, he cracked a smile, a genuine one, when he caught sight of Ponyboy's eyes going over a sheet of paper. Probably a homework assignment or something, he was always so dedicated...

"What's that?" Sodapop asked for me. His golden eyes twinkled with curiosity, and Ponyboy grabbed the pencil that was hiding behind his ear. "This," He said, erasing something that Johnny couldn't see from his position, "Is a design for a snowfort."

There was a pause.

"A what?" I asked, actually confused. He tilted his head to the side as Pony struggled to explain it. "You know whenever it snows, Two-Bit always gets the wise idea to come at us with snowballs. He gets all prepared with like twenty and everything." Soda and Johnny exchanged an understanding glance and he nodded. It was true. Two-Bit seemed to live for two things; April Fools Day and Winter. This plan to build a snow fort was bound to pay off in the long run, because it didn't matter if you were indoors or outdoors Two-bit would find you and if you could protect yourself early you'd save yourself a lot of heart ache. There was a knock at the door and then a long _creeeaaak _as it inched open. The recognizable form of Steve looked heroic against the stark white of the environment, and he folded his arms over his chest with a smirk. "What are ya'll still doin' in here? It's snowin'!" They needed no further instruction; Soda was the first to leave, following his friend out into the cold(then he realized he forgot his coat and his boots and had to go back inside, but that's beside the point). Johnny left with Ponyboy, and they walked alongside one another, hands stuffed into the pockets of their jackets. To the park, where the snow was the thickest, where they could see all the future Greasers throwing snowballs and skating on the frozen roads. They walked for a few minutes like that, and Ponyboy turned with a smile to Johnny, who returned it.

He was still grinning when, out of nowhere, came the snowball. Right in the side of his face. Johnny's smile dissapeared and was replaced quickly with a look of shock. Pony supressed a snicker for as long as he could, but it was just so strange to see quiet, reserved Johnny Cade with a look of genuine, unbridled suprise on his face. He was not trying to hide his emotions, for once, and Pony appreciated that for what it was worth. Johnny put his hand to his cold cheek, playfully glaring in the direction it had come from - East - And saw Two-Bit and Dalls by a tree. Two-Bit was grabbing snow from the roots, making an army of snowballs. They had been to late. As Dallas threw the snowball he had been waiting to, Pony let the fort plan fall to the ground. A lot of use it would be now.

_Bam. _Right in the arm. Dally didn't have the best aim.

Dallas hadn't changed much in the years that Johnny knew him. He was still firey, still in a volcanic relationship with Sylvia, still the tuffest guy in Tulsa. Moreover, he was still Johnny's hero. His silver hair had fallen to his shoulders, and he had worked hard to maintain the length. Dally once reminded Johnny how 'girls loved long hair on guys', but he wasn't sure he believed him back then. Now, the words made sense. Women did love the hair, and the _eyes - _Those were the features Johnny had found most appealing to a woman, and those were the kind he wished he could fix. He wished his hair wasn't so greasy, that it would be smoother to the touch, that the bangs weren't so troublesome. He wished his eyes weren't so dark, that girls could actually see him beneath their darkness - Or anyone, for that matter. If eyes were the window to the soul, Johnny's was as dark as shadow.

"Well, look who's out!" Two-Bit grinned, making his way over to the group. His jolly tone of voice made Johnny smile against his will - Wasn't he supposed to be angry because of that whole 'cold ball of ice and snow being thrown at his head' thing? His thoughts were interrupted as his friend continued, "I was beginning to think you were a vampire, Johnny. We had a stake prepared and everythin'." He winked playfully and smiled that trademark smile of his. Johnny shook his head. "'M not a vampire," He muttered, and he felt himself shrink back into the boy he had been only two years ago. "I've just been spending a lot of time indoors, thinking about stuff." Two-Bit laughed a bit, throwing an arm around his shoulder like an over-affectionate Uncle. "Well, don't go thinkin'' too hard. You'll hurt yourself." In all of this conversation he had failed to notice Dallas watching him so close. He had been scanning him the whole time, mostly out of brotherly concern, but his eyes were locked now on his neck. "Since when did you go Christian on us?" The question was directed at his necklace, a white chain that dangled a small and equally white cross. It was something Johnny had taken to wearing often the past day or two - Religion had never been an important factor in his life but in these times he needed it. He had fallen asleep before the fire and when he woke up, lying in the grass of the lawn, it had been around his neck. The drugs that swam from his nose to his brain didn't let him remember, but he had guessed it had been his mothers. It looked a lot like one he remembered Blanc wearing, when he was younger, when things were still good.

"I've always been a Christian," Johnny admitted softly, his hands finding the necklace. He offered no further explanation, and he wasn't sure there was one. That story of him and the lawn seemed a little to out there to admit to people, but he was sure there was a God. As a baby in Mexico his grandmother had gotten him baptized, and he had thought nothing of it. Now, he appreciated it. When he was lying, dying in that hospital bed, afraid for his legs that he had thought were lost...

The rosary. His mother's rosary. He had made an unfair assumption that she had only been there to punish him, as she wandered like ink, black as night in clothes and eyes and hair, through the sterile white of the Hospital hallways. He remembered hearing her plead, "I'm his _mother, _I'm his _mother!" _And he had been bitter then, refusing her inside, although he wished more than anything he had not. Beneath all the drink and the bruises she was his _mother, _just as she had said... She had come back, crying and sober that evening, begging the nurse to give it to him. The nurse complied and he remembered holding the beads around his knuckles, hands shaking as he tried to calmly recite _Hail Mary. _He couldn't get past '_full of grace' _without choking up. The nurses gave him strange looks, worried, and promised to keep him in their prayers as well. Praying, praying, praying...In his waking hours it was all he did. When his eyes closed he dreamt of Angels in the fire of the church, saving the children so he wouldn't have to get hurt like this. He dreamt he could walk. Back then, that had _only _been a dream. Now, he utilized both of his legs as perfectly as he could. An occasional limp, some medication, a dull ache below the kneecaps...Other than that, he was fine. Thank the Lord for that, at the least.  
Now the rosary was burned. He had returned it to his mother once he had returned home, wheeling himself carefully into his bedroom. Publicity had come and gone in waves, and he had promised them nothing happened to him at home, he promised them that his family supported him fully, he promised the media that everything would be alright with his trial so long as he had his friends faith in him and his faith in the Lord. He wasn't sure how effective he had been back then, but Cherry Valence, Heavens bless her, had worked hard in collaboration with her cousin and Ponyboy, to get him off of the hook. For that, he was thankful, although she refused to speak to him again. '_I killed her boyfriend,' _He mused sadly, '_How can I expect forgiveness?'_

In public, people refused to look at him the same. At home, it only made things easier for his father. He was relieved that metal death trap was out of his life, but saddened more so at the loss of his rosary, that sweet reminant of his mother.  
probably lying among the half-looted remains of his home, and he wondered if it would hurt to go back there. To see it again.

It took Two-Bit throwing another snowball to wake Johnny out of his daydream.

It had been a wonderful afternoon. Snowball fights followed by red noses were chased away with hot chocolate back at the Curtis household. Dally would never forget that evening. Johnny had been planning on going home, to see the damage, to take what the looters had not, but before that... He needed his friends. Especially Dally. It had been nine o'clock and Pony was just getting into bed. Darry had explained that Dally and Johnny could stay if they wanted, but they knew the rules by now. Quiet, calm, no sudden and loud noises unless somebody was getting hurt. There was warmth in the air and he had been humming _Let it Snow _into the gray of his cocoa mug, his third serving. He had sat next to Dallas on the floor, and they had gotten to talking about the number of marshmellows in their drinks when Johnny had put his down on the table. It had simply been to hot. Dally followed, placing his beside Johnny's, and had just watched him. His thoughts were racing a thousand miles a minute. Johnny was mesmerized by the snow still in his hair, the way his cheeks had turned pink from the cold, and how this was Dallas Winston infront of him. He was the coolest guy this side of the United States and he was dedicating time to _him _of all people.

Johnny had time to ponder all of this and yet Dally's cool eyes were still smoldering on him, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. Dallas had not expected what happened next, but Johnny had become bolder, and he had pounced. He had knocked Dallas right to the floor, laughing about how he couldn't watch him like that. He wasn't allowed to. It was freaking him out. And Dallas, never to be bested by a kid two years his junior, had rolled ontop of him and pinned him down. "Say Uncle," He demanded, but Johnny was laughing to much to say anything. His eyes had ignited with life for the first time in a long time. Dallas felt strangely sentimental and he would have cursed himself for it only Johnny didn't like it when he swore. That boy had a power over him, and he was to look after him. It was his purpose. It had to be. Dallas Winston knew he had never been good for anything except Johnny, because Johnny, for some odd reason, worshipped to ground he walked on. He admired him for him, for his cool demeanor, for his easy way with the girls. Not for the crimes. Johnny wasn't like the wannabe gangsters that admired his skill with a switchblade or the way he could walk into a room and turn the conversation cold.

And then he had said it. It had been so innocent, Dally hadn't known what to think of it. He had let it go with the innocence of a close friend, leaning down to him before rolling off. Johnny had closed his eyes and said, "I don't know where we'd be without you", meaning "I don't know where I'd be without you", meaning, "I need you". Dallas liked to feel needed and wanted. They drank the rest of their hot chocolate and the night melted away like marshmellows, slowly dispersing without notice. They fell asleep on the carpet, curled against the bottom of the couch. Johnny had rested his head tiredly on Dallas' chest and Dallas, too tired to argue the possible gayness of the position and to in love with Johnny and sleep at the moment to care, had fallen asleep first. Deep breaths, soothing him in a sleepy rhythem, sent him into sleep. He had not seen what was left of his house that evening, like he had so desperately wanted, but maybe Dallas could go with him in the morning. Maybe he wouldn't have to go alone.

For the first time in a long while, he had faith in leaving things the way they were. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all. He had never felt closer to the gang than he did at that moment, and that had to mean something, didn't it?


	4. Kill or Be Killed

**Authors Notes: This is kind of short but I wanted to update. I realize now I made a few mistakes with Dally and Johnnys age differences and stuff but oh well. (: New characters are introduced here, yaaay! Oh, and more background. That's always good. Even though there are some of my 'original' characters in here(created especially for this story, xD), this story WILL be focused on Johnny...and I am pretty keen on the Johnny x Dally pairing. Mmm...There needs to be more stories about these two.**

**Enjoy.**

_Future Markets, Holy Wars_

_Been tried ten thousand times before_

_If you think that God is keeping score, Hooray!_

There was a wooden frame that half-stood stubbornly among the collapsed rubble and wood. Shingles from the roof were scattered around the lot. Two figures stood and watched it from the sidewalk. One, the man who looked older, shared a few characteristics of the second; Black hair, near perfect posture, peirced ears(although the first didn't wear any earrings and only sported_ one _hole in each of his lobes), and eyes darker than the night sky. They looked similar enough to be brothers and, granted, that was what they were.

The oldest was approaching the half-burnt ruins of what used to be his house.

"Addy, come on," The younger of the two murmured, pushing his glasses up to his eyes. "It's to cold to be out. Let's at least head to a diner and get some breakfast."  
The one referred to as Addy nodded, although he didn't move. His eyes, darkened with circles that gave away his insomnia, were focused on a glint of metal among the garbage. He kicked aside what used to be a cushion, walking towards it. He knelt down for a moment in the dirt, the gray of it smearing onto the already ripped knees of his jeans. His hands moved in a very orchestrated manner, waving over and under boards and turning black from all the ash.

And then the chain was gripped tightly in his fist and he lifted it infront of him. Glass beads shone blue and white in the sunlight. A small pendant baring a picture of His Blessed Mother dangled from it.

---

_"Don't move," Came the gruff warning. There was a breif pause, and it brought some relief. Johnny's eyes closed tight, pressed up against the bedroom wall. At least this time he wasn't near any windows. Nobody could __see__ him. His hands clenched and unclenched with the rhythm of it all, his teeth grinding together. He didn't expect any mercy and he never got any.  
"You look just like your mother," The man half-slurred, pressing up hard against him this time. It hurt, but Johnny managed to keep quiet. If he kept quiet, there would be no accompanying beating. In his state, he could go without it. "Got 'er hair... Look at me, boy, you got her eyes too." He didn't want to but rough hands tangled into his hair and forced his head to the side. Eyes opened of their own accord. Black eyes met brown ones in a staring contest. Johnny had a sick feeling in his stomach, and having eaten nothing that day, expected to have a rather unpleasant gagging fit soon after this. His head met the wall again and his father continued in silence. It wasn't hurting as much anymore. He was getting used to it..._

_  
Through the heavy haze of memory Johnny could not recall when he had started, but he was wrong to think he could get used to it. _

_And then he saw her, bright as any angel. He was somewhere else, now, although he couldn't place it at first. The cream colored walls and the spiraling staircase startled him into realization. Kathy watched him from the top of the stairs. Her hair, long and chestnut colored, was falling down her back and chest. He realized suddenly she wasn't wearing any clothes, and didn't seem to notice as she approached him. The aura of innocence surrounded her, the way green vines were embracing the walls. It was very earthy here, full of plants. There was a Willow tree growing next to the stairs. The sky stared at them from the open roof._

_Her smile was as warm as sunlight. He didn't move, and stay stunned as he stared into her yellow eyes that stretched into infinity._

_She offered him an apple, something she had been clutching all the while. It was shiny and red and he couldn't resist, because she had touched it and she was wonderful for asking him. He was hungry. He accepted it graciously, and broke the skin with his teeth. The sweet flavor nearly drove him insane, and suddenly she was gone. She was gone and he was alone with a half eaten apple. The walls of the mansion began to burn away. A flame saw him and began to approach, hungrily licking at his shoes. The apple was gone. And Kathy, masquerading as both Eve and her snake, turned and fled up the stairs even as they broke apart._

_  
He could feel the heat on his skin, tearing at his pant legs. God, he thinks, Oh God, Jesus, Joseph and Mary don't let me die like this. Don't let me die like this. The thoughts are so familiar he could have sworn this had happened once before --_

_He's shaking and scared, because he knows he's going to Hell - He wasn't in a state of Grace - He hadn't gone to confession in many a year... The fire did not seem interested in his excuses._

_The flames moved to engulf him, and he tried to yell, but no sound would emerge. He was trapped in a sea of orange red, burning, the fire sending him to eternity._

---

And then he woke up.

His eyes were wide and he must have been doing something in his sleep because Dally, still chilling out beside him, was watching him with worry. He had been shaking him, too, which Johnny noticed by the way he was moving when his eyes snapped open. The vividness of the dream haunted his waking vision nonetheless, and he simply laid his head back onto his heroes chest and willed it all away. "You were mumblin', kid," The older of the two murmured, reaching up without hesitation to stroke Johnny's silken locks. "Somethin' about your old man and scales." The seventeen year old smiled sheepishly, noticing the way Dallas was careful about speaking to him about his parent. He was the only one who hadn't yet mentioned it to him, and even now, it sounded like he'd been trying to tiptoe around the mention of his father. Johnny knew he wasn't fragile, but Dally liked to think he still was. He did it out of love. He only wanted to protect him, after all...  
His stomach was still doing flips. Fear was still pumping through his veins as naturally as blood, and he could even feel himself shaking slightly. It was gone but it had been so real, so vivid, that he could still feel the flames tearing at his skin ---

Dally must have noticed to, because he pressed his lips to the mess of hair atop Johnny's head and closed his eyes, as if willing himself back to sleep. Johnny instantly relaxed, taking a deep breath. This was better, much better.

He wouldn't have been this way with anyone else. Dallas Winston was tough. What would his hardcore friends say if they could see him now, cuddling up to a teenager, being so reassuring and brotherly towards him? Johnny didn't feel like musing on the topic any longer. He was to tired to think straight and to scared to allow himself back into dream. Johnny took a few deep breaths to steady himself, to slow his racing heart, and finally melted against him once again. Dally seemed to be just as tired as he was, from the looks of his eyes and the sluggishness of his movements, and Johnny nearly glanced to the clock but decided it wasn't important enough to move. This position was perfect in every sense. Who cared what the time was, he was perfectly comfortable and achingly tired. Had he looked, like Dally had, he would have known it was but five in the morning. They still had plenty of time before everyone woke up, and plenty of time to rest. Johnny realized with dissapointment that he couldn't bring himself to. He was awake, afraid of the dreams, afraid of everything. Dallys arms around him had put out the fire, but if he let himself go back to sleep he knew they would ignite again. This time, Dally wouldn't be around to save him.

In the midst of this insomnia and confusion, he found himself feeling rather daring.

His hand, the one that had been resting near Dally's hip and the floor, moved towards the bottom of the older boys shirt. If Dally had been more awake, he might have tensed. If it had been anyone else, insant reaction would have been a punch to the face. His half-lidded eyes watched Johnny in confusion and he suddenly felt the warmth of skin move from his stomach to his chest. The scars there burnt with the arrival of fingertips, which gently glided over the markings he knew would stay there forever.

It had been strange at first. Johnny had opened his eyes in the hospital with some shock. His heart had stopped. His _heart _had _stopped. _He had been transferred immediatly to a specialist in Oklahoma City upon being revived, and spent a period of five months there. A doctor had been trying desperately to repair his shattered nerves, which he lay half conscious and dying in a white bed. He had wasted nearly half a year under treatments, but they had paid off, hadn't they? He watched his legs now, moved them a little, and thought it was worth it.

When he had asked the Doctor why he kept trying, he had replied that it was his duty to a dear friend. He assured Johnny he had the best of the best working on this case. Such a show of heartache and struggle for those children, for his friend, the whole story, should not go unignored. He told Johnny that his nephew had been there, at that church in the flames, and he smiled when he did. He kept smiling through all the test, all of the fine tipped needles, all of the icepacks and bandages. It was a grin that had made Johnny uneasy.

And then, once the team of specialists had agreed they could do nothing more, they let him go home. He had been terrified of returning home.

The nurse that had offered to ride with him, get used to the wheelchair and help him on and off of the bus, was a very nice woman with hair the exact color of sapphires. Johnny remembered being suprised at this.

She left him that evening in front of his door, wishing him well before returning to the bus stop. He would never forget her expression as she surveyed the streets the Greasers lived on - Disgust first, then dissapointment, and finally sadness. An outsider feeling sorry for them. That must have meant things were _really _bad.

He continued to roll, then, past all of the broken homes. The hill by the lot was frightening to him, even if it wasn't too steep, and he inched down it.

He was struggling with the steps infront of the Curtis household. He could manage getting the front part of the wheels onto the first step, but the back? Forget about it. What if he fell? Nervously, he had tossed a few pebbles to the window, and thank God Darry came out to help him inside. They had all honestly thought he was dead. Nobody at the hospital would say anything because they weren't family, and such restricted information was kept in the vault. They had told them, simply, that he was not there anymore and he would not be returning.

He had heard about Dallas shortly after and the color in his face had drained. His Dally, shot by the cops? In a coma? No, they must have had it wrong. How could anyone get a bullet in Dally, the way that he moved? Ponyboy pointed out he had done it on purpose, right after he had 'died', and Johnny's heart sank into his shoes. He must have really ...really loved him. Needed him. Johnny had liked to think Dallas needed nobody, but, the first time he had seen him cold in that hospital bed everything he had learned about Dallys tough facade had flown at the window. He stayed every day, most of the day. He sang to him and talked about everything in hopes he could hear him, and when the nurse wasn't in the room he could gently rest his head against his chest, the way he was doing now as they sat curled against the couch. When Dally did open his eyes only three months after Johnny's arrival, it seemed unreal. He didn't have much strength but he could squeeze Johnny's hand and that was enough to make him happy.

Since then the bond had been stronger. It was like the accident had said a million things neither of them would have before. It reaffirmed everything they had as a friendship and Johnny didn't sink away into corners anymore when they spoke. Dally had noticed the way he was growing up, how he had been coming out of his shell since those days...

In the present, dust settled on the windowsill. Johnny and Dallas found their eyes fixed on each other.

"I want to see it," He said finally. His voice shook with the effort it took to get sound to come out of his tired throat. He found he didn't want to pull his hand from his friends chest, and for the moment Dally didn't seem to mind. Johnny thought he himself must have been raving mad, touching him this way and expecting no reprecussions, but so far he wasn't recieving any and he liked it that way.  
"See what?" Dally murmured, all to aware of where Johnny's hand was. He adjusted his position to sit up a little further. Johnny leaned up to his ear, finally withdrawing his hand from the bullet scars. He responded cooly, "My house... I want to see what's left of it." He was inviting Dally along(in a subtle sort of way, because being direct had always been hard for him) although he wasn't sure why. It would be nice to not be alone. It was beautiful out, cold and white...

Oh.

Cold.

The idea lost some appeal when Johnny remembered it was Winter.

"If I have to suffer in the cold, you do, too," He joked, yawning as he reluctantly moved his head from Dallys chest. He got to his feet, noting how stiff his back had become that evening. It felt like he had slept on a board, but some walking would undo the knots. Dallas watched him from the floor with this _look_ on his face. In a sarcastic tone, the look spoke volumes: _Like I would go out there at five o'clock in the morning into the blizzard.' _But when he saw the look on Johnny's face, the disbelieving way one eyebrow was raised, the slight pout of the bottom lip, the eyes pleading: '_It won't take very long, please? For me?' _If Dallys words had been cruel Johnny's were even more so, because he knew exactly how to get what he wanted out of Dally by now and he was using it to his full advantage(for once) Worse still, he had chosen to do this at five o'clock in the morning, a less than ideal time to be running around in the cold.

"Alright, alright," Dally grumbled, getting to his feet. The sentence continued under his breath as he grabbed his coat from the couch, and Johnny caught a few expletives and smiled.

It took a moment for Johnny to wake up. He had grabbed his coat, rubbed his eyes, and then started for the door. All the while, sleep was still lingered in his eyes. He was tired. After all this, he intended to nap.

He opened the door and noticed the snow had mostly melted over the course of the evening. Dissapointment was quickly replaced with shock as the cold winds rushed him. Anything resembling fatigue vanished from his body. Dally smirked as he stepped out behind him, closing the door as he did so. "It ain't so nice to be out now, is it?" Johnny rolled his eyes playfully, glancing to Dally as they started to walk. He wanted to touch him again, but he was afraid he might have been pushing it. He had slept on him, and moved his hands beneath his shirt... He didn't want to make Dallas uncomfortable, but since Dally had come out of that coma they had been closer than ever before. Those little touchs, gestures of friendly affection, were becoming more and more common and it felt good to be loved. Before he could contemplate the idea any further, he felt Dallys' arm snake it's way across his shoulders as they walked, and he couldn't help but grin like an idiot.

They moved in silence. Johnny missed the way the birds used to sing in the morning now more than ever. It could have been perfect, this time with Dallas, if only it were warmer and he could hear the sweet birdsongs.

He could see the house coming up, now, a pile of black beneath the remains of the frame. There was almost nothing left. Burnt photo frames, broken bottles of glass, parts of the couch...Those were all that remained. Whoever had done this had done it right.  
The grin faded slowly from his face as they got closer. Johnny wiggled out of Dallys' embrace, as much as he did not want to, and made his way to the remains. It felt like he was walking into a graveyard, the way this place of sadness and now death was weighing heavy on his heart. His eyes fell to what used to be his parents bedroom, now just a ghost of it's former glory. What was that, catching the dim light? All he could see was a sparkle among ash, and was hesitant to move closer. He had nearly forgotten all about Dally as he got to his knees, the blackness of the victims rubbing off on his pants, and leaned in for a closer look. His breath caught in his throat. It was a glass bead, blue as the sky itself, and he knew exactly what it was from, but where was the rest of it? He felt dissapointment turn his stomach.

Dally seemed to be getting worried, once again the kind of worry that Johnny was finding irritable nowadays.

"You alright over there, Johnny?" Dallas moved closer, carefully stepping around what may have once been valuable to his friend.

Johnny nodded, looking up at Dally as he clasped the bead in his hand. "I'm fine... I'm ... I'm just going to look through here to see if anything survived, and then we can go, alright?"

Dally nodded. He may not have been the brightest of the gang but he knew when he shouldn't push it. This was obviously one of those times. So, he remained quiet for another half hour, while Johnny sank back into animal instincts. He became a scavenger, picking at remains, sorting through the cold items that still smelled like smoke.

He wasn't able to come up with much. The glass bead, the frame of a photograph, and a little Mexican doll was all he could salvage. He didn't seem dissapointed now, though, as he walked towards Dally, his prizes gathered in his arms. There was a smile on his face the size of which Dallas hadn't seen in a long time. It was saying, 'Thanks'.


	5. Ashes

**Authors Notes:: Sorry about this, folks, but I feel really bad about the way I wrote Soda in this chapter. xD If any of you guys are good with writing Sodapop and want to give me a few tips on how to improve the way I wrote him in this chapter, PLEASE give them to me! This chapter was tons of fun to write but I was so nervous about introducing my O.C's. I tried to make them make sense, and they speak fancy-talk on purposeer, fancy talk being really normal, but it sounds a little smarter than the book dialouge and less country-ish oO They're not from around here. Oh, by the way, I realize that Blanc is a french name and he's Mexican, but I do what I want. Sodapop is a sexy bitch, I'm sorry if I've written him wrong... Don't hold back in your comments if I have. Opening lyrics are from the song Little Sister by Rufus Wainwright.**

_Ave, ave, history is on my side  
So complain have no shame  
And remember that your brother is a boy  
Though it seems the stakes contain some integrity._

The breakfast had been mediocre. The food had been cold in the middle, much like a hot pocket. The bacon had tasted like rubber cement. The cheese had been like nail polish, oily and smelly, disgusting. Blanc hadn't been able to touch much after the first few bites. He remembered thinking this food was good. He remembered coming here. He remembered being young, and being able to stomach anything. Now he couldn't stand the way the eggs smelled. He felt his stomach turn at the thought of swallowing what these people had called "breakfast". "Are you almost done?" He asked, looking over the rims of his glasses at his older brother. Adrian opened his mouth wide to reveal huge half-chewed peices of egg and Blanc made a face. "You're twenty-seven years old," The younger of the pair reminded him, scrunching his nose in disgust at the immature act. Adrian just smiled and continued with his meal.  
In truth, Addy delighted in the sights and sounds of this place. There was always something going on - Gunshots rang out downtown, masking the sounds of birds calling out for lovers. The gunshots were covered by the sounds of the choir on the 'nice' side of town, and there was the constant noise of rumbling from traveling cars. It was nothing like he had remembered it and bore no resemblence to Oklahoma City, but then again Adrian had only barely recollected this town. He had been seventeen when he first saw this town, sixteen when his family had moved and he had not followed immediatly. He had remained in Mexico with his beloved Grandmother. He had stayed by her bedisde month after month, because his Abuela had been sick and he couldn't leave her sick. They had been so close, his mothers mother and he - And before the disease shut down her heart, she had cupped his face in her hands. "Harás grandes cosas, Adrian," She had promised, her eyes drifting shut. "Confiarlo en, la manera que tengo, porque él te dirigirá."

And then she had died. The words liked to haunt him sometimes, in the dark cloak of night. He had never lived up to them. Why had she made such a careless remark? Adrian hadn't done anything great in his life. He wasn't very successful at all, he hadn't done anything with his life. She had all these plans for her grandsons, so many ideas for when they reached America. The Land of Opportunity, wasn't it?   
He felt like he was betraying her, because he had never lived up to those words. Johnny had been far to young to remember the wonderful woman who had deserved so much more, and Blanc only remembered a scary old woman who liked to pinch his cheeks and giggle in the dirty home they used to share. These thoughts depressed him. Nobody really _got _why he had cared about her so much, and nobody ever would.  
"I'm done," Adrian announced, his thoughts stopping immediatly once he realized his plate was clean and he'd been poking at nothing with his fork for nearly two minutes. He reached for the napkin, wiping his mouth before getting to his feet. Blanc sighed. "Finally." He gestured in the air for the nearest waitress to attend to them, and just as quickly as it had come to peace of the early morning was gone.

--

The girl looked excited.

Her green eyes were wide and unfocused, painted onto the dark wood that was her skin. Her outfit was made up of a rainbow, painted onto fabric that fell in loose waves down her small body. Her small feet were plunged inside black dancing shoes. She certainly appeared like the kind of girl who would tango the evening away under the hot Mexican sun, as was the makers intention. A sombrero of purple and gold sat atop her black hair, which was tied back in complicated braids. Her cheeks were painted rose red, on the edges of her thick black smile, and pins joining her limbs to the torse completed her. This girl of wood and glass was beautiful, and she belonged to Johnny now. He sat beside Dally on the Curtis couch, sniffling to fight the cold. God, it was below zero out. What had they been thinking? Dallas was sitting next to him, his eyes wet and red, full of regret for their earlier act. It certainly hadn't taken long for the sickness to set in, had it?

It was seven now, and they were wrapped up in blankets on the couch, Johnny pouring over his loot and Dally watching and thinking he'd better be _damn _greatful because look at them now. He sniffled, feeling the beginning of a sneeze coming over his nose. Ugh.

He had to look after Johnny, though, because he was his to look after. The kid didn't have anyone else, and neither did Dallas, and that was just find with him. In a way, he realized, the gang was some kind of dysfunctional family. Darry would be the mother, being that he was the most responsible and took care of everyone when they were sick and taking up couch space. Dally could be the father, because he was so feircly protective of everyone else. Pony could be the kid, since he was the youngest of the gang. Soda could always play the part of the Uncle that brought bags of candy whenever he visited, because everybody liked him, while Steve could be the cousin since he was more distant than the rest but always _there. _Two-Bit was perfect in the role of the over-affectionate but distant relative that nobody knew their real relation to(perhaps the second cousin twice removed), and Johnny? Well, it was only natural that he would be the puppy. Every dysfunctional family _needed _a pet.

He looked a lot like a dog right now, Dally mused, the way he looked so defeated and sick and excited at the same time. His fingertips were tracing over the wood of the doll. "_Hermoso," _He said under his breath, and Dally regarded him with curiosity. Johnny caught the glance and smiled wider, if that was at all possible. "_Beautiful. _And it is, isn't it?" He held out the doll, in an attempt to share it with his friend.

Dallas regarded the object that Johnny had salvaged with mild interest, wondering how in the heck something _wooden _had escaped burning in the _fire. _"It's a doll," Dally reasoned, and Johnny shook his head in a semi-dissapointed 'you-just-don't-get-it' kind of way. He felt a sneeze coming on and dropped the doll into his lap, reaching wildly for the tissue paper. Dallas passed the box, although not before grabbing himself three or four. Johnny sneezed and then groaned a sick sort of groan and Dally wondered if it had been worth it. All of this sickness for barely anything...

Ponyboy was just on his way out for school, but had made sure to bring the medicine out with him. He stopped to drop the bottle on the table. "Only _one _cap full an hour," He warned, looking to Dallas in a way that seemed almost parent-like. "Any more than that and you might start seeing spots."

Dallas returned the strange look with one that basically said, _'What the fuck are you looking at me like that for? I do what I want.' _Johnny had to keep himself from laughing at the contorted and confused expression, but could not repress a snicker. Pony looked to him, a little confused himself.

Johnny only smiled gratefully, not one to fuel a possible fued between the two by pointing out the humorous expression and the stupidity of the warning(pfft, as if they couldn't _read labels!)_. "Thanks. We'll keep that in mind." He sniffled. He must've looked god-awful because Pony spared him a sympathetic glance before turning to begin his walk to school.

Dally reached for the bottle, staring disgusted at the label. It was cherry flavored medication - Why not just _say _it tasted like ass on the label? No way he would be putting that into his mouth. No way in Hell. It didn't even taste like _cherries, _that was _false advertising! _How Dallas had the attention span to focus so long on a label the boy beside him did not know. In fact, at the moment, Johnny was studying Dallas with a look in his eyes a mix of admiration and adoration.

"Dally?" Johnny leaned over, a little concerned over Dally's strange expression. He didn't realize how close he was leaning until Dallas glanced over at him, and he could swear he felt his breath. He fought back turning away - No, that was the old Johnny's habits - He had to grow out of them. He wasn't going to move until Dallas answered and that was that, but how embarassed he felt under his friends surveying gaze. Dallas realized how close they were as well, and felt uncomfortable - This was _far _to close to be simply _friendly - _but found those black eyes of Johnny's absolutely hypnotizing. He couldn't seem to break contact, but Johnny coughed and woke him up. He managed to lean away a little bit and Johnny slipped the bottle away from Dallas' grip, tightening it in his own. He unscrewed the cap, because he could deal with some nasty flavored medicine if it meant well results.

Meanwhile, Dallas looked down to the doll in his hands. Her cheeks were red and round, her mouth twisted into a wide grin. He wondered what she had to be so damn happy about, when everything in life sucked. People were being opressed and ignored left and right, kids were getting killed in parks and vacant lots, small business' closing down to make room for the corporations... And yet here this doll was, expression painted as if nothing was wrong at all. Maybe her world wasn't as fucked up as the one Johnny and he shared. This made him feel better, at least, and for the first time he marveled at her eyes, her hair, and her dress.

"It's nice," He said slowly. Johnny looked up, his eyes black moons over the small pink lake of cold medicine, half ready to be swallowed and tipped up to his lips. He paused now, not quite understanding Dally's point. "The doll," The older boy said quickly. "You know...it's nice." He moved to place it down beside them. Johnny smiled, although Dallas couldn't see it behind the medicine. He swallowed a big gulp and hoped for the best as it slithered down his throat.

---

"So, where do you think he would be?" Adrian asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He looked up at his brother curiously, awaiting a response. He seemed to be thinking about it, but it was only ten in the morning - They had plenty of time to find him while enjoying the scenery, didn't they?

Blanc had spent more time here than Adrian. A lot more, actually. Blanc had actually lived here for a good few years, and despite it's problems, he recalled it being a fairly nice neighborhood. His memorise didn't even come close to living up to what this place had become - The streets seemed dirtier, the people meaner... He wondered if his little brother had become bitter here, how he had changed. He had seen it happen before on these streets - Sweet kids had turned into sour ones after only a few years.

"He wrote me a few letters," Adrian said quietly. It was a sudden statement, but an interesting one all the more. "I mean, he was looking for you, but I got them... Long time ago. Years. I think he was nine." Blanc regarded his older sibling with lingering curiosity. Adrian seemed suddenly nervous, and Blanc guessed he was simply worried about whether Johnny would or would not like him. He was strange that way - He always got so strange when he met someone new. Blanc, on the other hand, was very sociable. His ego was a little... overblown, maybe, but he _knew _he was good with people. He _knew _that. People usually liked him, with his subtle but frequent compliments and apparent simplicity. He didn't come off as too smart(although he probably knew to much than was good for him), and flattery won nearly everyone over. At least, it had worked on most of the girls. Success was important to him, important enough for him to ditch his accent. It was hard enough coming to the country with skin as tan as his and not get hassaled, but he didn't need to confirm suspicions by speaking with a Mexican accent - America was still adjusting to the attitude of being equal with everyone of all skin colors, nationalities, ethnicities, and religions. That didn't make the occasional discrimination right, but he knew how to avoid issues with intolerant assholes - So, with that in mind, he eventually, adapted to the American way of speaking. This was something Adrian hadn't taken to - While his accent was definately diluted by this point, it was still obvious to anyone with ears he came from somewhere else.

Adrian wastaller than Blanc, and had, in fact, been taller than almost all his friends growing up. Adrian could feel people looking down at him for his ethnicity, and it was one of the few things that had made him feel, well, so _small. _

"They were sweet. He just wanted you to come home."Adrian shook his head. Blanc shook his head, sighing. "You have them with you?" Adrian nodded quickly, reaching into his pocket as if to reassure. The chill of the Winter air caused him to shiver suddenly, and Blanc smiled. "Shouldn't you be wearing a coat?" He said, tilting his head to the side curiously. Adrian nodded. "Well, I thought a jacket would be good enough. I didn't know it would be so _cold here." _

Blanc did the one thing any good brother would do. He threw an arm around the taller man's shoulder, in a weak attempt to share body heat. "Let's just hurry up then, e..." His sentence trailed off into nothingness, because he had caught sight of a familiar boy.

He was amazingly attractive - Blanc was quite sure if he didn't like girls he would go for _this _boys type. He _knew _this young man, but he couldn't place the name. There was something giving him Deja Vu about the teenager working at the gas station across the street. Adrian caught his gaze and followed it, right to the DX and the shitty red car there. Once he realized it wasn't the car Blanc found fascinating, he retraced his steps and this time, they lead him right to Sodapop Curtis.

"Something wrong with him?" Adrian asked, watching the scene with interest. His younger brother didn't answer, already halfway across the street. Adrian bit his bottom lip, considering staying on _his _side of the street, but suddenly Blanc had turned and was gesturing wildly for his brother to come and join him.

_'If he's trying to make a good impression on this guy and inviting me along...' _Adrian thought with a sigh. It was a fact he was not good with people - He was plain _awful. _He tended to be uncomfortable around people he didn't know and didn't say much, which in turn made _them _uncomfortable. Surely, his brother knew this. Ignoring the little voice in his head that told him to _stay, _he made his way across the street as well.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, and Blanc worked his magic.

"Excuse me," The other said, and the boy pulled away from his work for a moment to greet the company. "Yeah, hi. We're looking for someone, and are wondering if you could help us out?"

Adrian rolled his eyes. Blanc was far to self-confident for his own good - He often proclaimed he could make friends with _anyone _because he just had that natural _charm. _Suddenly, snapped out of his thoughts, he was able to get a good look at this boy. His hair was a strange mix of reddish gold, his eyes bright and alive and enchanting. Adrian was quick to look away, mumbling to himself.

"Lookin' for someone, huh?" Sodapop repeated, studying the two carefully. There was something awfully familiar about the black waves of their hair, the darkness of their eyes. He decided not to push it and ask because these guys were new around here, and he wouldn't want to make a newcomer feel unwelcome around here. _No, _He thought, amused, _That's Dal's job. _He wiped his hand off on a nearby rag, and reached it out to Blanc. "I'm Sodapop. You two new around here?" Blanc looked down at his hand as though it were something filthy(though, in defense, he had just been sticking it inside a car with the oil and other nasty junk that leaks from it), but accepted it graciously. "Blanc. Sodapop...Wow. That's one you don't hear everyday." The two shared a lighthearted laugh and released one anothers hands. "So, you say you're lookin' for someone? I reckon I know most of the kids in this town, so, you're askin' the right guy. What's his name?" Adrian stepped forward a bit, surveying Soda with black eyes. He was trying to make a good judgement of him - Adrian liked to think he was a good judge of character, and what he liked even more was putting that skill to good use. "Johnathan Cade," He said quietly, each letter pronounced so he could make no mistake. "I take it you know him, then?"

Soda's eyes widened just slightly, indicating his suprise. He grinned. "I might, depends on what business you have with 'im." There was an expectant silence, and Blanc would have spoken to answer if Adrian had not stepped in. How strange, for someone usually so quiet around strangers - There was just something oddly warm and inviting about Sodapop Curtis, he could make anyone talk.

"We're his brothers," Adrian said simply. "Now, I'd appreciate it if you could give me a location, a general idea of where he might be, anything."

Sodapop looked confused. He even scratched his head. Here comes these two boys out of _nowhere _claiming to be the kids brothers, and Sodapop couldn't say he remembered his friend saying anything about siblings. The hair, the tint of the skin and especially those dark _eyes _were telltale signs that they had some sort of blood relation with Johnny. He resolved that he would get to the bottom of this. "He's at my place," Soda finally answered, a smile once again brightening his features. "I'll take you there, if you wanna go, after my shift." The siblings exchanged a glance that said everything. Blanc faced Sodapop and nodded his head. "Yeah," He started, smiling back. "That would be good, thanks."


	6. Banana Pancakes

**Authors Notes:: This felt so weird to write. I hope everything looks alright. 0 Don't be afraid to give me heavy critique if something comes of as retarded or unrealistic. I'm kind of nervous 'cause this is the only chapter where Addy and Blanc were actually seriously involved with the main characters. In the next chapter, I promise more angsty-cokehead Johnny. I mean I like appreciative nice Johnny, but angsty-cokehead Johnny kind of wins, too. Opening lyrics from Bannana Pancakes by Jack Johnson.**

_It's so easy when the whole world fits inside of your arms,_

_Do we really need to pay attention to alarm?_

_Wake up slow..._

Curled up against Dallas for most of the day, Johnny found himself having unusually pleasant dreams. There was one about a ship, sailing forever happily on seas of blue. He was heading South, and Johnny never figured out why, but he found himself feeling jealous of the boats freedom. It had been sailing pleasantly across peaceful oceans of green and blue... Nothing could touch it out there. There were no rocks to scrape it's side, no storms. Everything...was just _perfect._

He'd awakened slowly at around 1:00. All the lights were off but that didn't matter much - The brightness of the snow outside the living room windows seemed like enough to move by. The sky was bright and gray, and it was raining. He was only half asleep, but that was really the best time to enjoy such a moment - He was exhausted and all his thoughts were so honest, surrendered from his subconscious. He came to the conclusion that he liked rain, he liked the doll he'd salvaged, and he liked Dallas. In fact, he liked Dallas a whole lot. There was a tired murmur from the mouth of the man he was using as a pillow - His chest rose and fell in a peaceful sequence, and it calmed Johnny. He sank a little lower into the other, allowing his muscles to relax some. He felt hands in his hair, long fingers entangled in the locks, and knew that Dally must've been awake too.

When Johnny looked up, though, he saw closed eyes, a very red nose, and barely parted lips. He smiled to himself and closed his eyes. The rain, the simple touches, and the darkness of the living room reacted with the medicine he'd only taken a few hours ago, still swimming in his bloodstream. With a final sigh, he fell back into tranquil sleep, and silently prayed for pleasant dreams again.

---

Sodapops shift ended at exactly 6:00. He always made it home in time for dinner with his brothers and what he considered to be the extended family - whoever happened to show up. Almost always Two-Bit dropped by, but didn't stay to long because his mother liked to have him home at night. Dallas usually wasn't around, because he was out with girls or down at Buck's getting his dinner. Johnny stayed a lot of the time but he hadn't been around lately. In fact, nobody knew where he'd been spending his time at night now, because the lot was almost always empty and he no longer had a home... But if he was in some serious trouble - The phrase that came to Steve's mind was _in deep shit - _He would speak up, wouldn't he? Steve had always counted on the gang, the way they could support each other like brothers... But if Johnny supported that idea, why was it only now he was learning he had brothers?

Soda was chatting cheerily with the younger one. He looked younger, Steve noted. Blanc smiled more, he made eye contact when he was speaking with Soda. Adrian was taller, shifty-eyed, and didn't seem to happy about anything at all. Both of them made Steve suspicious. Blanc was much too friendly and Adrian wasn't friendly enough. It was all off balance. He heard Soda's voice and focused on it, suddenly back to earth. His eyes never left Adrian, who, he realized, looked a lot like Johnny. His hair was silky and black - a bit wavier than Johnny's, though - And his eyes were huge and dark. There was no mistaking those black eyes. Never in Steve's life had he seen any family, any human being, with darker eyes than Johnny's.

"Where've you been, then? He's been stuck in that god-awful house of his for far to long." Sodapop sounded stern, like he was really letting this guy have it. At the same time his voice was gentle, understanding, seeking an answer. Blanc sighed, shaking his head. His shoulders slumped. It appeared he was actually ... Feeling _guilty _about something.

"Stuff came up, alright? It's not something I'm proud of... Besides, Dad didn't want see me." He shook his head. "We had a fight the day I left. Over money, no less. He wanted me to send some. I told him to get a fucking job." Blanc sighed. "Yeah, so we left on some not so good terms. Mom was really mad at me, said if I was turning my back on the family they were turning their backs on me. And that was that." He rolled his shoulders in a shrug, and looked to Adrian. Soda was looking at him too. Finally, Steve didn't feel alone in his suspicious stare. Adrian looked up, eyes wide and black and curious behind his bangs. "Que?" This only earned him more staring.

"Haven't you been paying any attention?" Blanc said, his frustration obvious in his voice. Adrian shook his head. "Did I miss something important?"

His younger sibling sighed. Soda was walking backwards, now, knowing this route like the back of his hand. He was studying Adrian. Yes! Soda thought he was odd, too. At least, Steve thought he thought so. He had to have. Steve knew him, and Steve thought this guy was shady. Surely Soda, such a good judge of character, would pick up on that too? "I'm just wonderin' why you never visited. Blanc said your from Oklahoma City - That ain't all that far from here. Did you not want to see him or somethin'?" It was a rather serious personal question, and Adrian thought about it for a minute. All the while, those dark eyes were focused on Soda, their expression blank. It took a few minutes for him to articulate his explanation. It was not a very good one, but Soda decided it was best not to call him out on it. "It's, ah, kind of hard to leave work. There's so much to be done, stuff I can't... I mean, I really can't trust other people to do what needs to be, ah, done... And besides," He added, rather quietly. "He wouldn't want to see me. He doesn't remember me. He didn't the last time I saw him. Has he been getting the money I've been sending, at least?" Adrian looked to Soda, who shrugged his shoulders. "Well, you can ask him yourself. That house is ours." He pointed to a house only two lots down, and Adrain bit his bottom lip nervously. "What if he doesn't want to _see _us? We haven't exactly won the brothers of the year award." He looked to Blanc, obviously directing the quiet question at his brother. "Of course he wants to see us! We're his brothers, regardless of whatevers happened in the past." He swung an arm around Adrians shoulders. "And you'd better smile when you see him, too." Soda had not really seen Adrian smile, and he nodded his head. It only made sense - Johnny wouldn't be so edgy if they made him feel more comfortable, more reassured by warm grins. Before they came to the house, Soda stood in the yard and glanced at Adrian. His expression was serious, a glint of protectiveness in his eyes.

"You just remember ya'll are gonna have to tell those stories to Johnny, and you don't even know the kind of hell you could've saved him from in that house. I hope you have better excuses for him."

As they came to the Curtis porch, Adrian took a seat on the swing. Steve stood out with him, reaching for a carton of cigarettes. He popped one between his lips, offering the box to Adrian. He took one, and Steve lit them both up. "You go in first...Talk to him a bit." Blanc nodded. Adrian was more worried than anything else Johnny would not remember him, and it depressed him. And then, even if he did remember him, he wouldn't like him. This the man seemed sure of. Soda wanted to reassure him - Of couse Johnny would love his own brother! - but Blanc had already turned the doorknob and was stepping inside. He was greeted by the warmth of the living room, a great relief from the winter outside, and the sight of two people curled up asleep on the couch. The shade of his hair, the color of his skin... Blanc knew the smaller one must have been Johnny. "Addy, come on in. He's asleep," Blanc laughed, making his way over to him. Gently, he knelt down before the couch, brushing some hair away from his closed eyes. "My God, he's grown up a lot since I last saw him. I wouldn't have even have recognized him if it wasn't for the skin." He was curled up against another boy, one who looked older than him. Blanc noticed how red their noses were, the way they were wrapped so tightly in a blanket. Johnny had a doll resting against his arm, and Blanc remembered that doll. He remembered when they'd used to have a sister. She had played with it all the time, little Maria... Named after her mother, of course. He remembered the tragedy of her dissapearance, and his mother sobbingly confessing those men from the black market had taken her away. He'd only been a child of nine years, and he hadn't understood it then. She'd burnt all the clothes, thrown out all of the toys to rid herself of the awful memories - only, she'd kept the doll. It had been hers, it had been grandmothers, and one day, the next girl birthed in the family would take it as their own, too. Blanc thought jokingly that she'd never have pictured it here, in the arms of her eighteen year old son. He brushed his finger across Johnny's warm face. The boy squirmed a bit, moving. "Ugh..." He groaned sleepily.  
"Hey," Blanc said softly. He wanted to talk to him - He really did, he was absolutely thrilled to be seeing him for the first time in ages. His baby brother... It had been far to long.

Adrian had been ushered into the room by Blanc's voice - Steve and him had made sure to stomp out their cigarettes, because Steve warned him that Darry did not like it so much when the house filled with the scent of smoke. Right about now Sodapop was introducing him to Darry, and despite his obvious suspiciousness, his shifty walks, his downturned eyes, he shook his hand the proper way. Their eyes met. "It's nice to met you, Darry." He had said, and he seemed to be being very professional, very polite in his interaction with this man. Soda guessed his tune had changed because Darry was older, and the man of this house that Adrian was a guest in - It warranted a certain kind of respect that needed to be taken into account, after all. 

Johnny's eyes were flickering open. His nose was clear, not nearly as stuffed as it had been earlier, and he took a deep breath. The blurring vision began to straighten itself out. The dreamy images faded away, crumbling into reality, and he found himself suddenly peering into black eyes. He only remembered seeing those eyes...

"Mom?" He said weakly. Blanc smiled, and it was a warm, sentimental grin. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed his baby brother, and now he wasn't a baby anymore. Gosh, he was a man, now - He should've been about seventeen, eighteen by now. "No. Don't you remember me, John?" And Johnny was confused by this being with the eyes of his mother and the voice of a man. He sat up a little against Dally, who moved only to put a protective arm around Johnnys shoulders and grunt in a tough-sounding way(because, well, everything Dally did had to be tough). His eyes focused a bit, and he rubbed the sleep out of them. His eyes widened again, this time focusing on the man infront of him.

"...Blanc?" He said quietly. That was the only person this stranger could be, this stranger who was touching him so lovingly. Blanc nodded, and Johnny's perplexed expression changed to a sleepy smile. Blanc extended his arms wide and proceeded to hug Johnny in a way that ripped him from Dallas. "I can't believe how big you've gotten!" He gasped, releasing Johnny suddenly. His eyes scanned the face of his younger brother, and he was suprised to find a bruised eye. It was nearly completely faded, now, healing well, but it was still there - and a scratch on his cheek. He decided this would not be the proper time to question them.

"But Jesus, kid, do you need a steak." He let his arms fall to his sides and examined how thin his brother was. "What has your diet been consisting of?"

These questions, this sudden appearance, and the sickness swimming in his bloodstream weakened Johnny. He fell back into the comfortable curve of Dallas' arm, placing his hand on Dallys' to keep his arm there. "You shouldn't have hugged me. I've got a cold," He sniffled, looking to Blanc with red rimmed eyes. They were itchy and Johnny resisted the urge - He knew it would only make them worse. That was one of the things Mrs. Curtis had taught him when she'd been around, and it was one of the things

he'd never forget - It was, after all, important.

"Oh, Addy, Addy, get over here! He's waking up. You remember Adrian, don't you, John?" It was strange for Steve to hear Johnny be called 'John'. It seemed so much less endearing, so much more impersonal. Johnny had a sort of love to it as a nickname.

Blanc turned in the direction of the oldest Cade brother, and Johnny's gaze flickered to him as well. He appeared nervous, looking down at his feet.

"Adrian Aurelio Cade," Blanc said sternly, in a voice that made Adrian look up. "Get your ass over here and say hello to your baby brother. _Now." _Blanc was not in the mood to play - Adrian had a duty as Johnny's sibling to see him, and why was he being so shy all the sudden? Still nervous, Blanc guessed. Adrian did make his way over as instructed, though, and moved his bangs aside so he could peer at the boy on the couch. Johnny stared.

"Adrian..." He repeated, staring at him. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. This didn't appear to put the aforementioned man at ease. "I have two brothers?" He asked, turning to look at Blanc. He nodded.

"Yeah, but Addy didn't really live with us," Blanc explained, grabbing the hand of his older brother. He tugged, causing the other to fall to his knees beside him. "Excuse his _rudeness, _would you? He's a bit nervous." Adrian shot Blanc a glare, but his gaze softened as it landed on Johnny. "Hey," He said, and he was smiling. Adrian smiled weakly back, his bangs falling back into place on their own. Johnny laughed a bit as Adrian reached up to fix them away.

"I almost didn't think you were coming back for me," He said quietly, looking up at Blanc with wide black eyes. It had been so long since he'd seen his sibling face to face - He had thought he was surely dead or had forgotten about him. What a suprise this was, that Blanc had not only come - but he'd also brought him another brother. Surely, he'd be taken care of now. Blanc sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. We'll talk about it, alright? I promise." The words hung unanswered in the air for a few moments, and Johnny nodded. Dallas shifted a bit beneath him, seeming uncomfortable. "...'m ...age..." He mumured, his eyes slowly opening. He had seemed so peaceful a moment ago, but nearly as soon as his eyes had opened and registered the forms of Adrian and Blanc, his face resumed it's usual grimace. "Who the hell?"

"Oh, stop moving," Johnny murmured, turning on his side. "You're more comfortable that way."

Adrian smiled a bit wider at the obvious affection Johnny felt towards this man. It was sweet in the most friendly way. Soda had rejoined them now, leaning against the back of the couch as he peered down at Johnny and Dallas. "You feelin' any better? Need a tissue?" Soda grinned, half-joking. Dallas looked up, glaring playfully towards the Curtis. "Shut up," He demanded, and promptly hit Sodapop with a pillow.

Of course, this would only lead to a pillow fight. Soda tossed the pillow back, hitting Dallas in the ear. The older of the two immediatly sat upright, causing Johnny to roll off onto Blanc. The next thing Johnny knew, Dallas was ontop of Sodapop, and they were wrestling.

"Is it always this crazy around here?" Adrian asked, looking to Johnny with a smile on his face. The youngest of the Cade children nodded, sitting up. He was rubbing his head where it had collided with his brothers knee. "Yeah, pretty much. You get used to it." He answered. He scratched at his arm - That feeling was back, the feeling that there were dozens of spiders crawling up and down his body, their legs tap - tap - tapping against his skin. He realized for the moment he'd have to try and ignore it, enjoy the family reunion - This was all he'd wanted, after all. There was a moment or two of smiling and staring, their gazes flickering from the wrestling match on the floor to each other. Finally, Johnny simply pounced at Blanc, giving him a tight hug. "I missed you!" He announced, and the older boy hugged him back. "I missed you, too!" He laughed. Adrian watched, sighing. At least his brother had always been in the company of such caring people. These were friends you kept a lifetime - He could just see it in how comfortable the atmosphere of the house was, how utterly family like it was - but if Johnny had them, did he really need Blanc and him? Adrian doubted it.

He glanced back over at the wrestling boys and was suprised to see that Dallas had won in the few minutes he'd been thinking hard.

**CLOSING NOTES:**

**Anyway...I've been avoiding this because I've been to lazy to go to my reviews and find everyones name but I really do wanna thank everyone who reviewed. :/**

**Stereochick - **I personally replied to you. / your hear for honorable mentioon.

**Secret Pleasures**** - **I'm glad you think it's believable. I was a little worried about that part, to be honest.

**Creeno -**Your review is kind of old but I'm still replying to it. C I will finish.

**WickedFun - **Yeah, I'm trying to make it a little different. A lot of fics in this catagory are so alike!

**Fosterchild - **Thanks for the review. I hope I continue to entertain you.

**Pictures - **Why did you change your screen name? Ohhgeezz was pretty cool, ya'know, I'm just kind of curious xD

**Minami Ozaki Wannabe & Maddie**** -** You guys have left me good reviews and I appreciate it, it's very cool of you and I'm glad you're enjoying what I'm putting out there. C

**O BY THE WAY** 8D


End file.
